The Island of Bones
by T. R. Myers
Summary: The Doctor and his new companion, Phoebe, with the help of Ernest Hemingway and his wife, find themselves the targets of an ancient demon that will stop at nothing for absolute power, and it's drawing strength from the most haunted place in the world, Key West.
1. Chapter 1

Phoebe looked around the TARDIS console room. She felt she would never get to used to this amazing place. Moreover, she wondered what her mother would say. Here she was, going off with the Doctor after nearly being caught in the middle of a war between the United States and the Silurians. At only sixteen, she was certain her mother would never give her permission. "Doctor," she said, "don't you think my mom will be just a little upset if I disappear for a few months?"

The Doctor absently worked his controls as he said, "There's no need to worry, my dear. This ship not only travels through space, it also travels through time. I can bring you back to this exact moment." He looked up, suddenly excited. "Just think of the places we can go: anywhere in the universe, any time! Isn't that worth the risk? I know where I'll take you, to the edge of the universe."

Phoebe smiled. This mentality was so callous. This could only be the ultimate power of the ultimate power, and here the Doctor was talking like it was nothing more than his plaything. Maybe it was, at that. Who was she to judge such things? Here was the Doctor; this extraordinary man who dressed in a brilliant suit, red high tops, and knew almost everything...well, he knew everything, period. This versus Phoebe; goth princess of Miami, dressed in her sheer black lace Material Girl short sleeve jacket, and underneath, clearly visible, a shirt bearing the image of Marilyn Manson and the album title, "High End of a Low", knee high black boots from Hot Topic, and could barely make it through high school algebra.

The Doctor pulled a lever here, banged a buzzer there, spun a dial, and the TARDIS bounced like a children's party house. Not for the first time, she compared it to Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. "Oh, please," cried the Doctor, "Thaddeus Toad has nothing on my girl!" Then she came to a stop. "Now let's see where we are." The Doctor's excitement waned considerably. "Hmm, the edge of the universe is closer than I thought."

Phoebe looked at the Doctor's display and saw a little map with labels in English. "We haven't even left Florida!"

"Well, technically that depends on who you ask. If you ask the government in the Keys, they believe they are an independent nation called the Conch Republic."

"Really?"

"Yes, in 1984, the Reagan administration set up a border patrol outpost on South Dixie Highway at the border of Dade and Monroe County. Florida residents were being forced to produce passports just to go to Miami. The U. S. government refused to acknowledge the Monroe County mayor's grievances, so the county seceded, named itself the Conch Republic, declared war on the United States, surrendered, and sued for one billion dollars in war restitution. For some reason, the United States doesn't acknowledge the incident."

Phoebe was having giggle fits. "Is that true?"

"Cross my heart...both of them."

Phoebe shrugged. "I've never been to the edge of the universe, but I've never been to Key West, either. Let's look around."

They stepped out of the TARDIS and onto concrete sidewalks framing brick roads. A wooden sign said "Duval St." and numerous shops in Victorian style buildings lined the walk. Phoebe had to look twice. This couldn't be right. Old fashioned cars, such as Ford Model Ts and As, were few and far between. There was one large Buick from the 1920s, but the road was populated mostly with horses, some of them drawing carriages, and people on foot.

"What year is it?" she asked, not quite believing her eyes.

"I believe the TARDIS said something about 1933. Are you hungry? I'm hungry."

Some helpful pedestrians directed them to a new establishment called Sloppy Joe's on Greene Street. As they walked, the Doctor began to talk. It seemed like endless rambling, but Phoebe was always compelled to listen. Even if the Doctor didn't think what he said was important, Phoebe suspected it always was.

"The original settlers of Key West were Spaniards, of course, like much of Florida. They found the island covered with bones. It still is, even in your day. The Spanish settlers believed that the local natives used this entire island as a burial ground. This island has always had a macabre reputation, more so than most other places in the world. Why, where we're going now is the very saloon that will soon be known as Captain Tony's. It used to be a morgue that was destroyed by a hurricane. Growing right through the middle of the building is a tree where numerous lynchings occurred and as such, the owner refused to cut it down."

Phoebe wasn't so certain about going to a saloon, but in the 1930s in Key West, she was sure there wasn't much else. When they arrived, they found the place relatively quiet, though there were plenty of clientele. Most people were simply enjoying a meal while some were having drinks, and sure enough, there was a tree growing from the floor right through the roof. It was surrounded by bottles of water. "Holy water," the Doctor said. Indeed, there were bottles of holy water all over the place; on tables, on shelves, on window sills.

"The owner of this place sure is afraid of ghosts."

"In Key West, there's good reason to be."

"You believe in ghosts?" Of course, Phoebe believed, but she had always considered the Doctor too rational for such things.

"'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than you've even dreamed of.' Ghosts, demons, vampires, I promise you, they're real."

A handsome and dashing man was sitting at one of the tables, a beer in one hand, observing them with an investigator's eye. It was hard to tell while he sat, but from his well formed, muscular bulk, he was probably fairly tall. He had close cut black hair and a perfect mustache. "I see new faces," he said, in a rich orator's voice. "What brings you to this dive?" He wore a white, short sleeve shirt with a collar that buttoned at the top.

The Doctor said, "Oh, a bite to eat and perhaps a tale or two."

The man smiled and said, "You've come to the right place for both my friend from across the pond. The name's Ernest, but you can call me Ernie." Ernie stood, at least as tall as the Doctor, and offered his hand. Now that he stood, he revealed the brown khaki shorts he wore and the black, lace down boots with the white tube socks.

The Doctor accepted. "I'm the Doctor, and this is my traveling companion, Phoebe."

Phoebe took his hand and found that he took it as a nobleman would accept a lady's hand. He sat back down, with some difficulty. Phoebe asked, "Is your leg okay?" She sneezed.

"Bless you. I got this bum leg in the war. It always acts up. It'll be fine tomorrow."

Phoebe sneezed again. "You were a soldier."

"Bless you. No, I was a reporter. Are you alright?"

"Just a tickle in my nose. I must be allergic to something here. The only thing I can think of are cats."

Ernie looked mortified. "Oh, I'm sorry, I keep Maine coons on my estate. I'm probably covered in cat hair."

"Oh, it's fine. Just a mild allergy. I don't break out into a rash like some people do." She sneezed again.

"Let me apologize by paying for your meal. You look a bit young for the regular drinks around here, so what do you say to a ginger ale or a Coke?"

"Coke!" Phoebe looked forward to drinking a real vintage Coca-Cola.

Ernie flagged the bartender down, an elderly, black Bahamian with a stately look to him. "Wat ahl it be, Mistah Hemingway, Sah?"

"Whatever the gentleman and lady will have and give her a Coke."

"You da boss."

Phoebe, assimilating what she just heard, nearly fell out of her chair. "You're Ernest-Doctor, this man is Ernest Hemingway."

The Doctor nodded. "Yes, I know."

"The Ernest Hemingway."

"Yes, he is."

The old Bahamian laughed and said, "I don tink you can be having him, litta lady, so you bes be havin' sumptin from ow ki'chen."

Phoebe was completely flustered. "Oh, I-that is-sorry, what's good?"

"De fish is de bes dat you kin find til up dere in Key Lah-go. De chicken, she be tendah an fresh. De steak not so good, toe. Real tough like. De squid...depend on who cookin'. Es good when Tony back dere, but he ain't back dere, so you might not be wantin' de squid."

"Fish and chips?"

"De bes. You got it. You wanna splash ah cherry in dat Coke?"

"Sure."

The old Bahamian turned to the Doctor. "An what wouldjou like, dis fine day?"

"I think I can go for the fish and chips, too. I'll have a hot tea with milk and sugar."

"Comin' right up." He rushed with his order pad to the kitchen.

Ernie watched Phoebe shrewdly. "You're familiar with my work, then?"

Phoebe knew she had to be careful. She didn't know what books he had written yet, but she figured she'd be safe with his first one. "'A Farewell to Arms' was required reading in my English class this year."

Ernie's eyes widened in surprise, and he got a distant look on his face. "My book is required reading in a high school...I think I'm even more surprised than when they made a movie of it last year." He snapped back into his alert, attentive demeanor and asked, "Where are you from?"

Phoebe grinned. "Miami Beach, born and raised."

Ernie laughed. "Ah-ha, six hours away on the weekly bus; four hours if you drive yourself. Just coming to visit your southerly neighbors, I guess. I'll admit, I know the girls in Miami wear some strange things, but I've never seen anything quite like that." He gestured to Phoebe's Marilyn Manson shirt. "And you Doctor, whereabouts in England do you hail from?"

The Doctor laughed and said, "Oh, I only sound like I'm from England. I'm from quite a bit further away than that. I'm from a place called Gallifrey."

"Well, how do you like that? I've never heard of the place. It must be quite remote."

"You could not imagine."

Their food arrived about then, and the old Bahamian pulled up a chair. "Da name's Maurice, but ever'one round here jes call me Moe."

Ernie said, "Moe came here from Bimini when he was just a kid back in the 1840s."

"Yeah, my fam'ly, we was all de property of ole' man Otto. He go to Africa, he go to de islands round here. He bring some slaves home ev'ry once in awhile. Den came da big fight up nort. Fort Taylor got real busy down here. Den one day, dat colonel up from Clearwater, Colonel McMullen come down and he say, 'Ev'ryone, we lost de war.' Next ting we know, we free." He shrugged as if what he had just said had meant nothing. "Okay, den. Since I was old nuff to hold a shovel, I kept de Otto's yard nice an' pretty. I did it as a slave an' when I was free, I went on doin' it. I didn't have nuttin else an' I liked doin' it."

Ernie looked at Moe suspiciously, but said nothing. Phoebe was completely drawn in. Perhaps it was the musical way that Moe spoke in his deep, soothing voice, or perhaps it was truly the retelling of the momentous events that so directly influenced what Moe clearly considered a mundane life, but Phoebe was enraptured. Ernie, though, kept glancing over at Moe.

The Doctor said, "Slavery continued well after the Civil War throughout a large portion of the South, especially remote areas like Key West, where the government paid little attention. Many slave owners down here kept slaves well into this century. The Otto's must have continued the tradition."

Phoebe said, "Wait, I thought Fort Taylor was a naval base."

"It was. The thing was, like Moe said, much of slavery was a willing arrangement. It wasn't like people wanted to be slaves; they just didn't think they had a choice. Another point was that Florida was still a territory until after the Civil War, not a state."

Moe continued. "A damned strange ting 'bout dat Otto fam'ly. Dey had it comin', toe."

Ernie said, "I thought that's what you were getting at. I enjoy a good ghost story as much as the next man, but the Otto's are extremely influential people."

Moe shrugged again. "Es cause you don b'lieve it but es true."

Ernie said, "Moe thinks the Otto family is cursed."

"Not jes any curse. De Lwas have dat fam'ly marked. I seen it afore."

Phoebe shook her head in confusion. "I'm sorry, the el...the what?"

The Doctor said, "An Lwa is a demon in Bahamian folklore, specifically Vodou. When the Cubans first encountered Vodou, they adopted many of its practices, forming a faith called-"

"Santeria," said Phoebe. "Just about everyone in school has some sort of Santeria ritual they do. I've heard of it."

The Doctor said, "I figured you had. I just wasn't sure if you knew it was a form of Vodou." The Doctor turned to Moe. "Tell me about this curse." Ernie looked down into his beer, smiled, and shook his head.

"It's dat damned doll."

Phoebe almost squealed with glee. This really was getting interested. She tried not to let her excitement show. "A Voodoo doll!"

"Bah!" Moe waved his hand dismissively. "Dat be superstitious garbage! T'ain't no such ting. Dis doll be an avatar."

"An avatar?"

The Doctor said, "An inanimate object possessed by a spirit."

Moe nodded in confirmation. "Ole' Doc Tom Otto back in de day, he bring a Haitian lady home to take care of his baby boy, Robert. When he was five, she made 'im a doll, big as he was. He named it Robert, and from den on, he insisted ev'ryone call 'im by his middle name, what be Gene."

Phoebe asked, "What happened to him?"

Ernie said, "He's married now. In his house, he built a room scaled to Robert, full of furniture, a regular bedroom. If his wife, Anne were sitting here, she'd probably take Moe's side. She never liked that doll."

Moe shook his head sadly. "It be real strange. Gene, he spend as much time wit dat doll as his wife. Anne, she beside 'erself. She say da doll, it move round da house by itself, when dey not home or nuttin. She locks it in es room when she leave and dey come back and de door be unlocked an' Robert in da living room. Es real strange."

The Doctor asked, "What does Robert look like?"

"He have a wooden face wit two button eyes and mouth carved in. He wear a sailor jacket, pants, and cap, an' ev'ryting."

Ernie offered them a place to stay that night, which the Doctor accepted. As they walked, Phoebe was certain they were being followed. Ernie's limp didn't seem to bother him, and he said that he always insisted on walking since everything was so close by. They stopped by the TARDIS so Phoebe could get a change of clothes. Ernie expressed some curiosity about the blue box, but didn't pursue it. He was the type that held his piece until he had more information. Phoebe began looking nervously around side streets as the sun dropped below the horizon. She could certainly believe that this island was haunted. She could almost feel the spirits watching her. If she could know what the Doctor was thinking, she would have realized his psychic abilities told him everything he needed to know about the island. There were were ancient and powerful creatures here, and one of them, an extremely old and powerful demon, was interested in them.

The house was a beautifully decorated colonial style home, most of its contents a fabulous-and expensive-collection of antiques. Cats; large, fluffy, mountain lion sized cats populated the house. They ran under foot-a remarkable feat considering their tremendous girth-several laid on a very expensive looking chaise lounger. They met his wife Pauline, and to Phoebe's horror, found that Pauline did the exact same thing her mother did. Terrified, Phoebe whispered to the Doctor, "She works for Vogue magazine!" The Doctor simply laughed at Phoebe's discomfort. Pauline was, if anything, even more obsessive about fashion than Phoebe's mother. Pauline was carrying on about her friends in Paris when she heard a name that made her cringe.

Pauline was talking about someone in Paris named Coco that had given a her a thorough education in millinery, the art of hat making. Phoebe, now completely mortified, asked, "By 'Coco', you wouldn't happen to mean 'Coco Chanel'?"

Pauline wore a serious expression as she said, "Hmm...I do mean Coco Chanel. By your style of dress, you are what we in the industry would regard as something of a dissident."

"A dissident."

"Of course. Vogue, Harper's Bazaar, Elle: we all tell people what is normal and how they're expected to act and dress, and not everyone appreciates that. There's a small clique that fancies itself free thinkers. They dress in dark colors, in cuts of clothing that recall the older Victorian styles of nobility, wearing kohl to darken their eyes, not as Egyptians, but in a parody of living death, and this is done to protest the status quo, and they never realize that by doing so in such a uniform fashion, they have created their own status quo to which they have become slaves, just as we are slaves to ours. I must say, you do wear it very well. There really is an art to it. So, what has inspired your particular protest?" As she talked, a particularly large cat, at least the size of a medium dog, and orange with white stripes, jumped onto Phoebe's lap. She resisted the urge to sneeze and petted the extremely furry tomcat. In truth, her eyes had been stinging and watering since she entered the house, but as a cat lover, and a girl raised on etiquette and manners, she endured the discomfort.

Phoebe smiled humorlessly. "My mom is a freelance fashion photographer that sells her work to every magazine you just named. She is absolutely obsessed with appearance, and she cringes when she has company and I dress like this so I make it a point to be dressed like this at all times. She always tells me how I'm supposed to look and how I'll never achieve anything if I don't look the way she tells me to, so one day, I started making myself look like death warmed over and I never stopped."

"Well, it's important that you be comfortable with yourself."

"I may reject the Dior and the Versace, but I won't say no to Chanel five."

"And nor should you. That would be too much for any self-respecting girl to bear."

Phoebe looked down on her lap. "This is like having a shag carpet on my lap."

Pauline laughed. "He likes you."

"What kind of cat is this?"

The Doctor said, "It's a Maine coon, the largest of the domesticated house cats. They get up to 35 pounds, are generally long hair and extra-long hair, and are polydactyl, meaning they have extra toes."

"I know what polydactyl means," said Phoebe with a smile. She kicked off one of her boots, trying not to disturb the cat, and reached down carefully to pull off her sock, and sure enough, she had six toes. The cat stared at the exposed foot with just as much interest as the Doctor. "Both feet. Dad says it sometimes happens on his side of the family, but he doesn't have it, and neither does my brother."

The Doctor looked at her thoughtfully. The deformity didn't come from inbreeding. Her father was Seminole and her mother was Cuban, though her light skin would fool most into believing she was Caucasian (her mother was white with hazel). Though she dyed her hair black, the Doctor knew she had red hair, also inherited from her father. This was getting more and more interesting. Though Phoebe would likely think that the deformity was a simple genetic anomaly, the Doctor was doing math on very different lines. On the Ocavri ship, she had displayed telepathic power as mighty as any Time Lord, and according to human superstition, extra digits usually indicated a person with great magical powers. The Doctor knew these were not coincidence. Phoebe was special. New Age theorists would say she was shining. The Doctor had wondered why the TARDIS had brought them to Key West, and now he knew. Phoebe was a conduit. She would attract the supernatural like a magnet. There was an important task for them here, one in which Phoebe would prove instrumental.

By the time the night was over, Phoebe had grown more comfortable around Pauline, who despite her profession and the fact that she was a socialite, was nothing like her mother. She and the Doctor each got their own guest room, luxuriously furnished, and Phoebe laid out her clothes for the morning, a black thigh length skirt with red trim that would likely make the Catholic Pauline cringe in spite of her fashion sense, black leggings that would more than make up for the length of the skirt, a black, low cut, short sleeve shirt in an elaborate corset style, complete with red ribbon serving as the lacing for the corset, tied in a bow, and a black derby. This was the most attention grabbing outfit she had, but she wanted to do Key West in style. She dusted off the derby, put it on, and looked in the mirror. The hat went with her bob cut quite nicely. She put it back on the vanity and dressed for bed.

As she slept, her dreams were wholly forgettable, but nevertheless, something woke her from a sound sleep. She didn't have to use the bathroom. There was no sound. Perhaps that was it. In the world she came from, there was always something making noise. Perhaps it was the unusual quiet of a realm unspoiled by a proliferation of machines that woke her. The silence was oppressive, intimidating, and that was her clue that it was unnatural. When she went to bed, this silence had been peaceful, inviting, and now there was something malevolent and smothering in it. She looked to the window, curtained with white lace curtains. Someone's shadow was behind it.

Her eyes widened in panic and she was about to scream when she remembered that she was on the second floor, and this person was definitely standing. Was he in the room, standing behind the curtain, the moonlight casting his shadow upon the room? With the moonlight to his back, he couldn't possibly see her. She stood up and looked down. The curtains didn't reach the floor. There were no feet. He couldn't be inside. Grabbing a candelabra from a pedestal and holding it up like a cudgel, she rushed over and drew back the curtain. He was outside, to be certain, and moonlight or not, he could see her the entire time, she was certain of it. She would have shrieked in terror had her fright not been so overwhelming that her voice left her. What she saw chilled her blood.

It was a man wearing the white uniform of a sailor, the only color in the red rank insignia upon his arm and a sailor's insignia on his cap, but though he could see her, he had no eyes, no nose, no mouth. His face was a blank piece of fabric. Finally, she found her voice. She opened her mouth, thinking she would call the Doctor, or perhaps thinking she might warn the mysterious...whatever-he-was...away. Her voice would not obey. It simply started, as if someone flipped a switch, a single, piercing, shrill note, that started soft and eventually grew to a blood-curdling shriek. It was the kind of shriek that makes a person drop what he's doing and immediately rush in, overriding the strongest of wills. That was exactly what happened.

The Doctor, Ernie, and Pauline all rushed into the room at once, the Doctor, inexplicably, fully dressed. Ernie lifted a Winchester twenty ought six and aimed it at the creature. The candelabra dropped from from Phoebe's hand and hit the floor with a loud thud. The thud was like a signal for as the candelabra hit the floor, the creature vanished as if never there. Still, nobody would think she was crazy. They all saw it.


	2. Chapter 2

Phoebe didn't get much sleep after that frightening visitation. The Doctor ordered her to stay in the house while he went back to the TARDIS. Phoebe knew what he was doing. The Doctor was going to try and find the creature and, barring that, was going to ask the TARDIS to help him identify it. She tried for another two hours to sleep. At three in the morning, she gave up and went downstairs to the kitchen where she found Pauline.

"I didn't expect you to be able to sleep, either," said Pauline. "There's no way to sleep after having a prowler up on your window, or whatever that thing was. Would you like some orange juice?" Phoebe nodded, feeling like a small child. "If you're from Miami, then you know that oranges are something we do not have a shortage of down here." She pulled a pitcher out of a positively ancient Frigidaire. She handed Phoebe a glass with the sunny yellow liquid in it. "Here you go; nice big glass. That always makes me feel better."

Phoebe, looking at the streamlined refrigerator, saw the corrugated hose leading from it to the wall. "Is that refrigerator gas powered?"

"It certainly is. It has a pilot light and everything. We could have gotten electric, but this was the biggest one. Don't ask me how it works. How a system that needs fire can keep your ice frozen is a mystery to me." She got up and walked to a large cabinet in the corner of the kitchen. "Let's see what's on the radio."

There was a loud thump as the old tube speakers came to life. Phoebe, who had never heard anything except solid state, was stunned by the brilliance of the sound. It sounded as if she were standing in the studio with the announcer, listening to his voice reflect off acoustic paneling. It was completely opposite to what she expected, remembering the grainy sounds of her father's record player. For the first time, it occurred to her that old sound systems didn't sound bad because of quality, but because of age and neglect. The tube speakers in that radio, that were surely as tiny as the ones in her stereo she kept in her bedroom, were as clear and vibrant as the high definition sound system at an IMAX.

"You have just been listening to Jimmy Durante and his orchestra, and coming up is a repeat presentation of last night's episode of 'Amos and Andy'. First, the news. Item: President Roosevelt has signed into law a bill increasing the regulations for driving on U. S. roads. Item: Metro Goldwyn Mayer has signed Gloria Stuart for Roman Scandals. Earlier this week, they signed Eric Cantor to play the leading role. Other signings include newcomer Lucille Ball. Item: Two months after Paul von Hindenburg stands down as president of Germany and appoints Adolf Hitler Chancellor in his stead, Hitler wins the official election confirming his position. Now, don't forget that every morning, you should brush your teeth with Colgate dental cream or powder. It cleans your breath while it cleans your teeth. You should always brush your teeth after eating, even after eating a delicious bowl of Jell-O. J-E-L-L-O: that spells Jell-O. Now, it's time for Amos and Andy!"

This simple way of living seemed as alien to Phoebe as any planet the Doctor could ever take her to. She was beginning to feel out of her element. She chastised herself for these feelings. She was the adopted sister of the future ruler of the Silurian people. She was the hero that had saved Earth from war between human and Silurian. Surely she was equal to a lousy poltergeist.

When the morning finally came, the Doctor was prepared to wake Phoebe. Pauline stopped him. "Let her sleep. She was awake until the crack of dawn."

The Doctor nodded. "I don't blame her. That would have frightened me, and I don't frighten very easily. Neither does she, come to that."

Pauline chuckled. "Ernie didn't sleep a wink, either, even though he tried the hardest. He stayed in bed and when he came down for his morning coffee, he told me he had laid awake the whole night. He looks exhausted, too."

"How was Phoebe last night?"

"She came down with a look in her eyes like a spooked cat. I don't think she's used to being really out-of-control scared like that. She seems like the kind of person who'll step up to any fight and doesn't like feeling powerless. Would you like some sausage and eggs?"

The Doctor smiled. "That would be lovely!"

She went immediately to work, talking as she pulled out pans, searched the refrigerator for eggs, and sausage. She also pulled a Pyrex dish from the fridge with aluminium foil on it, and pulled it open to reveal pre-rolled bread dough that she fashioned into biscuits. "No, she's like me. She doesn't back down from a fight and if she can't get out of one, she throws the first punch. Drawing first blood gives you the best chance of drawing last blood. She was like a frightened little kid. I gave her a big glass of orange juice and that calmed her right down. We listened to the radio for awhile, and finally she was rested enough to get some sleep."

The Doctor smiled. "I'll bet you're a great mother."

"No, I'm a lousy mother. Have you seen my kids around? They spend half the time with their nanny, and they're never here when we have company."

"Oh, why not?"

"I have no patience. I'd love to be the wonderful loving mother, but the second they act up, I'll turn into this raging monster that's had all she can take. I can't help it. There are people out there that can do a better job than me, so I hired one. I think memories of your distant and unkind mother are better than memories of your violent lunatic mother." She set the meal before him and sat down across from him, her head bowed in an exasperated pose, her hands steepled, the tips of her fingers against her forehead. "That's my failure. I thought I could do it, and when it got too hard, I got too impatient to try hard enough."

The Doctor could think of many things to say to that, and even though he would be right, he didn't think she would find it helpful, so he simply didn't say anything.

"When Phoebe came down, she was a scared girl looking for a firm ground to stand on. That I could cope with. I was feeling the same way. We were sharing each other's terror." She looked up at the Doctor and said, "So, did you find out anything?"

"I was wondering if you could introduce me to Eugene Otto?"

Pauline's eyes narrowed with intrigue. "Gene? I suppose. Why?"

"Did you see what the man looked like last night? He was wearing a white sailor's uniform."

"You're thinking of the stories about the doll."

"You don't believe them?"

"I'm Catholic. I don't believe in ghosts."

"Who said anything about ghosts?"

Pauline took the Doctor to Otto's residence on Eaton Street. The house was a veritable palace, a Colonial Queen Anne style with Corinthian columns and a turret. The Doctor saw the house before they got anywhere near it. That turret towered above the other houses in the neighborhood, many of them palatial in their own right.

"Do you know the Otto's well?"

Pauline shook her head. "We meet occasionally. Anne and I sit on the committee for the Women's Club. We're associates, I guess you'd say. Ernie and I threw a party sometime last year for the neighborhood. Anne came. Gene couldn't make it. That's about all the hobnobbing we do with the Otto's."

"Why couldn't Gene make it?"

Pauline sneered derisively and said, "He's always got an excuse, but you hit the nail on the head. It's that damned doll. I don't believe in ghosts, but I wouldn't shy away from saying that that doll has a demon in it. People hear the doll talking with Gene. They see it moving from window to window when nobody's home. You know, Ernie and I are rational people but the entire Otto family and all of their immediate neighbors have seen the weird things this doll does. They can't all be imagining it."

"Ernie doesn't believe it," said the Doctor.

"Oh, he believes. He just doesn't want it to be true, so he comes up with any explanation he can."

They came up to the door and Pauline rang the doorbell. A beautiful young woman came to the door and greeted them. "Pauline. This is a surprise. What can I do for you?"

Pauline nodded towards the Doctor. "I have a house guest who's interested in meeting Gene. Is he in?"

Anne's face darkened. "Yeah, he's in...the room. Can I know his name."

The Doctor smiled and said, "I'm the Doctor."

Anne smiled and shook her head. "Oh, he's got no interest in doctors."

"Oh, no. I'm not that kind of doctor. That's my name. I'm the Doctor."

"That can't be your name."

"But it is."

"What kind of name is that?"

"It's my name, that's what kind," said the Doctor indignantly.

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be rude. Here, come on in." Anne stepped aside to let them enter.

The Doctor walked past her and took in the house. Leaving the foyer, Anne led him into the living room. It was nicely furnished with a radio in the corner. Next to it was a Dictaphone and a Victrola. The records for the Victrola were neatly stacked on a shelf next it, while the recording cylinders for the Dictaphone were on the shelf above it. The radio was a wall cabinet RCA Victor. The setup was the modern equivalent of a 60 inch LCD flat-screen and quadrophonic surround sound. Next to the lime green couch on the other wall was an oak end table with a real Tiffany lamp.

Anne led them through the house. There was an office that was filled with files; an organized mess, and on the desk sat an old typewriter. The Doctor noted that it had a Dvorak (pronounced duh-vore-shack) keyboard instead of the traditional qwerty keyboard. "Your husband types on a Dvorak?"

Anne waved dismissively. "He likes to do things that people aren't doing."

She brought them to a door and knocked. A congenial voice said, "Come in."

Anne opened the door but refused to go in. The Doctor and Pauline stepped inside. It was a bedroom in miniature, or a large dollhouse, but it was all proportioned to Robert the Doll. There were lamps in Robert size, his bed was Robert sized, as was his rocking chair, and even the windows. Gene was a tall man, thin, with a blonde receding hairline. He also liked to keep his hair short. He had a weak chin and wore wire-rimmed glasses. He smiled, revealing somewhat overlarge teeth. The Doctor greeted Gene and said, "Hello, I was wondering if I might have a word with Robert."

An odd look crossed Gene's face. Most people would have thought the Doctor was crazy. They might have told him that he was being ridiculous, and that dolls couldn't talk and there was nothing to talk too. Pauline certainly wore an expression pondering the Doctor's sanity. On Gene's face, there was trepidation. He was worried that Robert might be in trouble and was ready to defend him.

Gene said, "Go-go-go right ahead."

The Doctor kneeled down so that he was at eye level with Robert. Pauline gasped as the congenial doll's face suddenly became dark and brooding. Gene was observing the Doctor. There was something threatening and intimidating about the way Robert appeared. The Doctor was immune to whatever Robert was emitting, so much so that his immunity produced a disruption that everyone could perceive.

"Hello, Robert. How are you today?" asked the Doctor they way he might ask a toddler. Robert's face darkened even further. "Oh, not very happy, I see. What's troubling you? I suppose it's to be a match of wills then. You frightened a very good friend of mine, you know. I didn't appreciate that. We can get along, you and I, but if we are to do so, then you mustn't do things like that." Nothing. The Doctor stood and said, "Interesting. I know he's there, I can feel him, but he's closed himself off from me. I think I scare him."

Gene was shaking badly, soaking wet, having broke into a cold sweat. "Lo-lo-lo-look Doctor, I'm going to have to ask you to leave, an-an-an-and don't come back."

The Doctor nodded, "I can't promise that. My friend's been threatened. Unavoidable, you know."

Leaving the house, the Doctor said, "You saw Robert's expression change when I confronted him."

Pauline said, "I'm not sure what I saw. It was so subtle, but it was...I can't think of the word."

"Unmistakable."

"That's a good word for it."

"Now listen. You won't believe this but it's the truth. There are powerful entities in existence, or rather, just outside of existence. They exist in the dimensional layer between reality and the void. They're trapped in an ethereal realm of limbo, and they'll do anything to break free. Reality is separated from other realities by a curtain, or a veil if you will, and there are places where this veil is thin and weak, where tears may develop and these entities can slip through, but they have no substance here, so they have to attach themselves to a living force already existing in this world. They've been called many names-poltergeists, demons, angels-but what they really are are conscious formations from the flow of time and they want substance."

"And this one has attached itself to this doll."

"No, it's attached itself to Gene. The doll is merely the vehicle to channel Gene's attention, and through his attention, his living essence, but the entity has ensconced itself in the doll. Think about it. Gene gave the doll his own name and took his middle name because there couldn't be two Roberts. He built the doll its own room, he even blames mischief only he could have committed on the doll. He assigns the doll a degree of reality that nobody in his right mind would ever assign an inanimate object. You can guess how it happened."

Pauline looked at the Doctor suspiciously. Her answer sounded rehearsed. "The entity was already there when Gene got the doll as a gift when he was five. This entity, encountering an impressionable five-year-old began influencing him. Gene couldn't have realized what was happening when he was so young, so by the time he was old enough that he should have understood, he became so accustomed to the presence that he couldn't understand that he was the one behaving oddly, not the people around him. So instead of putting away childish things, he continued to lavish unusual attention on the doll."

"Yes. For a being with no substance or form, the most important nourishment is belief. If you don't assign a reality to the doll, the doll is just a doll. If you insist on viewing the doll as a living thing, it will be a living thing."

Pauline, her suspicions confirmed, said, "I'm Roman Catholic. I see where you're going with this. You're elucidating the evidence necessary to define the first degree of possession as proscribed by the rites of exorcism."

"Well, that's how a lawyer might describe it. I was never really impressed with exorcism. It's not very reliable. Even the church acknowledges that it only works if the entity wants to leave."

"So, what can anyone do? It's Gene's problem."

"No, it's the whole world's problem. I don't think we can get rid of the entity, but there may be a way to contain it."

"Why is it the world's problem?"

"Because where one finds a foothold, it tries to bring as many as it can through. It will encompass the Earth if it gets the opportunity."

Pauline stopped. They were on Duval, halfway to Greene. The expression on her face was one of incredulity. "So, what are you saying? That we're facing a demonic invasion?"

The Doctor nodded. "That's a fairly accurate description for it. The thing to realize is that the names that you have for these creatures are based on a fairly primitive understanding of what they are. These creatures inspired religions, and governments. Some are benign. Some are malevolent. What is ensconced in Robert the Doll is malevolent, one of the most malevolent I've ever encountered."

"So then, what are they?"

"They are a classification of Eternal. That's what my people call them, because they really are eternal in the truest sense of the word. They are born and they exist where there is no time, time has no meaning, and time never was. They have no linear sense of time. Being a creature of linear structure and temporal understanding, you can't possibly fathom how they perceive the universe. Imagine that you have no life-experiences. You have to be born, right, but say you want children first. As an Eternal, you can do that. There is no continuity in life. You're never on time for a meeting, but you're never late either. You experience both simultaneously. What you would consider mutually exclusive now go hand in hand. You can't be in two places at once, but if you're an Eternal, you can be in as many places at once as you want to be and experience them at your leisure. Life is a collection of experiences, you see. That's all it really is and that's all you need to be alive. You see, they live from experience and exist because of it."

Pauline may have believed him, or she may not have, but she was too fascinated by the concept of what he was describing to make any objections. It was too alien to dismiss outright; too bizarre to not consider. "What, then, are the Eternals, as a society?"

"Well, the higher classifications certainly have society. There are the Guardians, the most powerful entities of all of existence, the most powerful of them being the White Guardian, who is Order, and the Black Guardian, who is Chaos. These, demons, as you would call them, are on a very low order, but they always seek to enhance their power. The Eternals exist on the varied levels of reality. In fact, they hold reality together, and the key to that is maintaining balance. These demons, particularly the one possessing Robert, seek to upset that balance in their favor, but you see, that's how balance works anyway: both sides are always trying to upset each other."

"How do you know all of this?"

The Doctor smiled wryly. "I have twice had the misfortune of beating the Black Guardian at his own game."

Pauline pursed her lips. It occurred to her that this man might be pulling her leg. "I have just one more question for you. What is a Dvorak typewriter?"

It wasn't until noon that Phoebe woke up. Sitting up, she looked for a digital display, then remembered where she was. Finding the old fashioned alarm clock, she jumped up. She had overslept before, but never until noon. She dressed and went downstairs to find the house empty. There was a note on the kitchen table telling her that her breakfast was in the oven and she needed only to heat it up. She decided to save time by eating her scrambled eggs, sausage links, and biscuits cold. She washed it down with a glass of orange juice. After cleaning up after herself, she went out the door and found Ernie there with his cats.

"Where's the Doctor?" Phoebe asked.

Ernie looked up and said, "Good morning, or afternoon, I should say. Pauline took the Doctor to meet the Ottos."

"He didn't wake me?"

"We all figured you had a rough night."

"Where are the Ottos?"

"Up on Eaton Street. You can hit it off Duval. Just hang a Louie."

Phoebe stopped, working on the vernacular that Ernie had just used. "Hang a Louie..."

"Go to your left."

"Oh! Hang a left. Right!"

As Phoebe turned away, Ernie said, "That's a nice derby."

Phoebe smiled and said, "Thanks!" She then ran off on her search for the Doctor. As she walked up to Duval, she came around a corner too quickly and ran into a stately gentleman in his fifties, knocking his top hat and walking cane to the ground.

"I do say! Watch where you're going, young lady!" He spoke with a rich German accent.

Phoebe stopped, picked up his hat and his cane. "I am so sorry. I really didn't mean to do that."

"I shouldn't think so. Do be more careful in the future."

Phoebe checked his hat and his cane for damage, and finding they were clean and unharmed, gave them back to the man.

"What is the hurry, anyway?"

Phoebe said, "Oh, I was hoping to catch up with a friend that was out and about this way. I'm Phoebe."

The man nodded and said, "I am Count Carl. Here's my card. Your friend shan't appreciate it if you arrive bloodied and bruised with a wake of destruction behind you. Please walk. Lovely young ladies should have more decorum." With that, he strode off.

Phoebe looked at the card he had given her. "Doctor Carl Tanzler, specializing in physical maladies of the respiratory system and the brain. The U. S. Marine Hospital: Key West. Telephone: 10-147." She had heard that name before. She knew that she had heard of this Doctor Tanzler, but she couldn't think of it. He had a particularly morbid connection to Key West, that much she was sure of. The Doctor was nowhere to be seen, so she stopped in a small shop. Using the old money the Doctor had given her, she bought a photo book about Key West. She flipped through the new book, with its color photos and captions describing the sights and history of Key West. There was one picture of work crews cleaning up bones with the caption: "Key West was probably once an Indian grave site. In fact, its earliest name was the Island of Bones." The Doctor had told her something like that just the day before.

Walking down Duval, she began listening in to tidbits of conversation. Some talked about seeing the Southernmost Point, which in this day was marked only by a sign instead of the concrete buoy that people of the 21st century were familiar with. Many were going to relax on the beach or go beach-combing. Some talked about the White Plague. Something clicked in Phoebe's mind. Through the 1920's, 30's, and 40's, the United States was dealing with a tuberculosis pandemic called the White Plague. It had led to the construction of specialized hospitals and sanatoriums such as Bedlam and Waverly Hills. The care and treatment of patients in these institutions dedicated to putting an end to tuberculosis became the prototype for the modern medical system.

It occurred to Phoebe that a doctor who specialized in respiratory function would be an expert on tuberculosis. She suddenly realized who Carl Tanzler was. "Oh, my God!" she exclaimed to nobody in particular. "I met him and I actually touched him. Gross!" After another moment of walking, she stopped, shuddered, and said, "Eww!"

She finally met the Doctor and Pauline walking down Duval Street. The Doctor said, "Phoebe, are you okay? You look paler than usual."

Phoebe explained who she met and what had transpired. "You do know who Doctor Tanzler is, right?"

The Doctor said, "I can't say I've ever met him."

"He is the focus of the most notorious case of necrophilia in history." Phoebe shuddered again. "Eww."

Pauline said, "Now come on, Phoebe, I know we've all heard the rumors about him, but you can't believe everything you hear, right? I know the old Count visit's Elena's grave pretty often."

The Doctor said, "Yes, that was another thing I found curious. There's so many bizarre and macabre stories about Key West these days."

"And you think it's the doll again."

"The presence of a manipulative and malevolent entity would go a long way towards explaining the peculiar behavior that goes on in Key West."

Phoebe said, "So, you met the doll?"

"Yes, and his presence was nearly overpowering. There's a creature dwelling in that doll so powerful that it can't quite hide from me. I sensed strong resentment, especially when I mentioned you. Watch out when you're out and about."

Phoebe nodded and handed the Doctor her book. "I bought a picture book of Key West."

The Doctor took it, clearly delighted. "Ah, yes. A souvenir of your trip here, I suppose?" The Doctor flipped through it and when he stopped, his expression became manic. "Yes; I should have realized!" He thrust the book back into Phoebe's hand and went off in the direction of the TARDIS.


End file.
